


Not Just Victoria's Secret

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Panty Kink, Rimming, SV Winter Exchange 2k18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Richard doesn’t know who signed him up for that Victoria’s Secret catalogue all those years ago.





	Not Just Victoria's Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robokittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/gifts).



> This is a gift for the incomparable robokittens, who asked for Richard crying during sex. Well, they provided other helpful prompts, but I confess I couldn't read on after that point over the sound of my own BOINGINGINGINGINGING.
> 
> Happy holidays, love, and I hope you enjoy.

Richard doesn’t know who signed him up for that Victoria’s Secret catalogue all those years ago, whether it was a prank or an honest mistake or just… who even knows.

He also doesn’t know whether they (whoever it was: this feels weirdly more like the Brogrammers than either Dinesh or Gilfoyle’s speed) meant to also sign him up for a year’s subscription to Victoria’s Secret’s… er …. product?

And yes, Richard could have cancelled the subscription, but when he tried to, the woman on the other end of the line just sounded so….so knowing, and kind, and and and Richard just couldn’t.

So now Richard has thongs, and suspenders, and stockings, and garters, and bras, and more lace-and-satin panties than surely anyone could ever go through in a lifetime.

They come in black and white and blush and neon. They’re sheer, or frilly, or boned. They have bows sometimes, and/or lace. They have little…. windows …. sometimes, for… things, or sometimes they don’t. They’re delicate, and intricate, and terrifying.

And the way they feel is….

The first time it happens, Richard hasn’t done laundry and he doesn’t have a single clean pair of his usual tighty-not-whitie-any-longer-after-a-million-washes.

So I mean, what is a boy to do, yeah?

 _It’s only while my clothes dry_ , he tells himself. _It’ll never happen again._

It happens again.

 

* * *

 

‘This won’t take long, Richard,’ says Jared, ‘and then we can clear out some space for all this…’

‘Schwag,’ says Richard bitterly. Fucking Russ Hanneman.

‘Merchandise,’ says Jared. He gives Richard’s shoulder a little squeeze. ‘I’ll be done in a jiffy, darling.’

Richard nods. Stays very still while Jared kisses the top of his head. It’s kind of a new…. it’s kind of new. This. Him. Jared. Casual affection. Little gestures that Jared hands out so easily and that Richard will invariably fuck up if he tries, but oh to feel that featherlight pressure of lips against his head, to think that this happens, now, this is them, Jared kisses Richard, Richard is kissed by Jared, Richard can have this, Richard is currently _having_ this, it’s ….

‘Richard?’

Jared sounds …. well, Richard doesn’t know how Jared sounds. If he has to guess, this is Jared’s now-calm-down-everyone-I’m-sure-there’s-a-perfectly-reasonable-explanation-for-this-dead-hooker-in-the-swimming-pool-right-Erlich voice.

Which doesn’t seem – I mean why would –

And then Richard turns in his chair and oooooohhhhhhhhhsssshhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Jared’s holding up a pair of lacy black briefs. A little wisp of a thing, barely there at all, nearly swallowed up by Jared’s giant hands. He’s holding the briefs up and away from himself, like they’re fragile (which – yeah), but also like they could go off at any minute.

He’s staring unblinkingly at Richard, and Richard can’t speak for the screaming in his head.

Something about his face (and oh holy fuck what does his face say?) must communicate … something … to Jared, because Jared’s eyes soften and he lowers the panties.

‘I’ll put these back,’ he murmurs, and Richard watches him fold the briefs. Daintily. Carefully. Black fabric slipping through long pale fingers.

‘Catalogue,’ he says. ‘I was. Signed up for.’ He swallows. ‘Catalogue for panties and stuff? And they. Sent them.’

Jared nods. ‘Would you like me to get rid of them?’

 _No_ , Richard wants to scream. He wants to fling himself before the teetering little stack of lace and silk and satin and howl until Jared backs off. He wants to drag Jared away and tell him about the cool shusha-shusha whispering of the silk against his cock, how unfathomably weird and bottomlessly himself he feels, how the scrape of his jeans against satin and lace makes his toes curl, like he’s a dirty thief but also a swashbuckler, like…

‘Whatever,’ he says instead. He makes himself shrug.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Thanks, Jared.’

He turns in his chair and jams on his headphones. He’s still when Jared kisses him goodbye, and this time it’s not because he’s making himself stay that way.

He makes himself wait until the end of the day to open his closet.

The catalogue is gone, as is the explosion of silk and lace.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It was just … curiosity, is all. And he has – y’know – his regular underwear now. He needs to do laundry anyway. Maybe even buy himself some new underwear. Nice utilitarian boxers. Little treat for himself.

Little treat for himself and Jared.

Or Jared could get some for him, he thinks. He basically owes him after throwing away his …

Not that they were his …

Not in any …

I mean it’s fine, really.

No. Richard’s not gonna ask Jared to get him underwear. Richard buys his own underwear. He can do it.

He will do it.

Nice sturdy white boxers.

Maybe even … Richard could maybe even get, like, boxers with like, checks on them?

Little – little bit of flash?

That could work?

Basically the same thing as hot pink satin.

Practically the same thing.

In many ways better.

Because … because these boxers would, like, actually fit him, and Richard wouldn’t strain against the softsoftsoft or even … even bust out of them which happens sometimes because the shift and press of the satin is just distracting and then Richard can see the head of his cock push past the waistband which is fucking obscene but also like that nothing little wisp of material can’t, can’t contain him and that wouldn’t happen because the boxers would … hold him, and wouldn’t be all … like that … against him, and it’s better, obviously, it’s better, good, glad that’s agreed then.

Excellent.

Peachy.

Richard scuttles to the closet to see if the peach satin thong managed to escape the cull.

It didn’t.

Which is fine, obviously.

It wasn’t like it was a favourite of Richard’s or anything.

Not even like he _had_ favourites.

Obviously not.

The black lace briefs definitely didn’t escape, did they, they wouldn’t have, Jared found them first, so for sure he’d have …

Nope. Nope, they didn’t make it.

Which is fine.

It’s fine.

Everything’s fine.

* * *

 

Richard’s in Jared’s condo. They’ve had soup and crusty bread and now he’s looking over some papers that Jared wanted him to sign. And then he has a question and Jared bends to look at where Richard’s pointing to and he’s close enough for Richard to just…

Which … it always takes him a moment – shorter every time – to remember that he _can_ , now. He’s _allowed_.

So he does.

And Jared smells of his rose-hip tea, and his lips are very full and soft and Richard can feel every individual indent under his tongue, and his breath is hot against Richard’s cheek – that’s as far as Richard can bear to pull away to gasp for air – and Jared’s hair is just long enough to twine through Richard’s fingers, just short enough to pull to get Jared’s head to fall back and for his lips to make a round wet O. And his tongue is soft and nimble, flickering past Richard’s lips, panting in his mouth. And his hand is warm against Richard’s side, warm and careful as it traces up and down from waist to ribs, gentling and flexing and holding Richard still as he writhes and shivers beneath him.

Richard’s other hand passes restlessly down Jared’s back, rucking up his button-down, slipping beneath the waistband of Jared’s neat chinos, tugging impatiently until he can get his hands on …

Wait.

What is …

That is … not the sensible utilitarian cotton Richard’s expecting to find.

That’s …

Richard grabs, convulsively, at Jared’s ass.

Or rather, the silk and lace covering his ass.

Richard freezes, hand still bunching the fabric.

‘Richard?’ Jared’s concerned face swims over Richard’s.

‘What, uh,’ says Richard. He coughs. ‘What are you …’

‘Oh,’ says Jared. His cheeks turn pink. ‘I … oh dear, this is embarrassing, I …’ he struggles to sit up. Richard’s hands tighten reflexively, one in his hair, the other on his ass. No … no moving … away, no …

Jared’s hand returns, stroking Richard’s side in a soothing semi-circular motion. His eyes stay on Richard’s. ‘I didn’t throw away the … garments, Richard.’

Richard’s eyes widen. ‘You didn’t?’

Jared shakes his head. He looks a little shy. ‘They were … oh, Richard, they were so … so beautiful, so intricate, the work was so exquisite, I didn’t, I _couldn’t_.’ He licks his lips and looks away. Richard squeezes his hair again, a little movement. He means it to be soothing, the _I know, baby, I know_ he can’t make himself say out loud, but he doesn’t know if he manages it. Jared’s eyes move back to his.

‘You gave me a task,’ he says wretchedly, ‘and I failed you.’

‘Jared …’

‘And then I … oh, Richard, I, I stole from you. I lied and I, I pilfered from you.’

‘You didn’t …’

‘I wanted to know,’ says Jared, ‘I’ve always …’ he looks down again, ‘They seem so … the stitching, it’s so detailed, Richard, so lavish, I’ve never …’ his eyes move back up to Richard’s ‘but I don’t deserve them, I don’t.’

‘Jared …’

‘I don’t,’ says Jared, ‘I don’t, you gave me one job, Captain, and I, I refused, I defaulted, I welshed, and then I compounded my weakness by, by sneaking away with my, my ill-gotten gains, like a pirate, like … ‘

Richard knows this mood well, who better, and he knows Jared’s just getting going. So he tightens one hand in Jared’s hair, and the other on Jared’s silk-covered rear, ‘til Jared gasps.

‘Show me,’ he says.

Jared’s eyes are very round. ‘Show you?’

‘I wanna,’ says Richard, ‘I wanna see.’

There’s a long – very long – pause while Jared stares down at Richard and Richard stares back.

Then slowly, slowly, Jared reaches for the button at his waist and Richard lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. _Show me_ , he thinks, _show me_ …

Jared reaches for his trousers and Richard says ‘Shirt. Shirt off. Also.’

Jared nods. Undoes the buttons on his shirt. Slowly. Collarbone. That little indent in his chest. First one thin gleaming shoulder, then the other. Long fingers slipping cuffs free, one by one. Soft flump as shirt falls to the floor.

Richard nods. ‘Pants now.’

Jared unbuttons his trousers and eases his chinos past his hips. Richard keeps his eyes on Jared’s hands until they still and then looks.

 _Oh_.

The black lace ones, he picked the black lace ones.

They’re relatively … demure, even. Well, relatively. Considering they’re a little scrap of lace and silk barely containing Jared’s balls and his long, slender cock, the line of it stiffening visibly under Richard’s gaze.

Jared’s hipbones curve, pale and fragile over the briefs. They’re stark against the blue-veined white of his skin. He looks terrifyingly, heartbreakingly vulnerable. Something elfin and ethereal, caught between worlds.

Richard wants, very badly, to eat him.

He raises his eyes to Jared’s, huge and round and gazing down at him. ‘Richard?’

‘Let me touch you,’ says Richard on a rush, ‘please please please I need - ’

Jared nods, violently. His eyes are like stars.

Richard reaches out a hand. Lets the tip of one finger graze the waistband of the panties. There’s a gasp in the room – from him? From Jared? – as he presses.

 _Soft_ , he thinks, the skin of Jared’s stomach, always wonderfully soft, Richard knows, he’s rested his head there before, it’s so …

 _It’s softer than the silk_ , he thinks, the silk is smooth and cool – still cool, somewhere underneath the warmth of Jared’s skin – but Jared’s skin is _soft_. So soft that the lace feels almost … harsh … under Richard’s fingers as he skates them down.

Not harsh, exactly, as he turns his fingers around, rubbing his knuckles down the front of the briefs, just a little … friction. It’s good, it keeps things interesting, the hush of the silk moving against the intricate work of the lace, it’s …

There’s a little moan above him and Richard looks up.

‘Jared? Are you - ’

‘Yes,’ says Jared, and Richard can see the little pulse fluttering in his throat, ‘oh, oh, Richard …’

Richard brings up his other hand. Pushes Jared down so he’s sprawled against the couch cushions. Jared’s looking up at him now, eyes wide, mouth wet and scarlet, belly curved inwards, skin startlingly, shockingly pale against the black silk and lace.

Jared looks up at Richard. Opens his legs so Richard can crawl between them. Richard curls over him and lets the palm of his hand rest, trembling, against the front of Jared’s briefs.

Jared lets out a long sigh, one hand coming up to rest on Richard’s arm.

‘Tell me,’ says Richard, proud of how steady his voice is, ‘tell me what they feel like.’

He looks up Jared’s long body into his eyes. ‘Tell me.’

Jared licks his lips. His eyes are following Richard’s hand, fingers curling over his erection. ‘It – they – they’re soft, Richard, they – oh, I can’t - ’

‘Try,’ says Richard, and he can hear the plea in his voice, ‘try.’

‘They feel,’ says Jared, shifting under Richard’s palm, ‘Richard, they, I feel, it’s so _decadent_ , Richard, _oh_.’

Richard’s fingers have made a V at the base of Jared’s erection, sliding restlessly against the silk. He pulls them away, petting and scratching distractedly. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yes, it’s,’ Jared’s voice is breathy, rapt, ‘The way they move against me, Richard, it’s, it’s like a secret, my own, just for - ’

‘Just for you?’ says Richard. His voice is breathy too. ‘Just for you and me?’

Jared nods. Whimpers. Arches into Richard’s hand.

‘Did you,’ says Richard. He swallows. ‘Did you – think about this? About – about you and me? About what I’d - ’

‘I,’ says Jared.

‘Yeah?’ says Richard, cupping Jared’s balls and matching Jared’s little moan. ‘What did you think?’

‘I thought – I hoped – I hoped you might like – oh, _Richard_.’

‘Like this?’ says Richard, squeezing tighter. ‘Like you getting – getting all dressed up for me?’

Jared’s head lolls against the cushions. He’s flushed now, all the way down to his chest. His nipples are standing up, pink and hard.

‘Under,’ says Richard. He swallows. ‘How – under your. Your pants?’

Jared licks his lips. ‘They’re - ’

‘Like this?’ says Richard, grinding down against Jared’s groin, closing his eyes as he feels the slipslide of the silk against his jeans.

‘Oh,’ says Jared, arching, ‘ _oh_.’ His eyes are hooded, a vein’s beating in his throat. ‘Oh, that’s - ’

‘Yeah?’ says Richard, watching Jared – oh, how often does he get to show Jared anything? – ‘yeah? You’re not just – you like that?’

Jared nods, and nods, and nods again. ‘Richard, please, I – Richard, again, please, I – _oh_.’

Richard’s given in to impulse, rubbing his face against the panties, feeling the silk and lace catch against his chin.

‘ _Richard_.’

 _Soft_ , thinks Richard. _Smooth_. Snagging against his scruff, pulling so that it reveals the beginning of the thatch of Jared’s pubes, then hides them as the material washes back and forth. Rubbing against Jared’s cock, head peeking shyly out of the waistband. Warm and hard underneath the silk. If Richard places his mouth there and sucks, he thinks he can leach out a little of the –

‘Richard, Richard, _oh_.’

Yeah, thinks Richard, nosing at Jared’s cock – yeah, there, there Jared is, unmistakeable, the earth of him, warm and alive and leaking through the lace – there he is, there he is.

‘Wet,’ he says – mumbles into the silk. ‘Gonna – gonna get it all. All dirty.’

Jared’s eyes fly open. ‘I – I didn’t mean – oh Richard, I wouldn’t - ’

Richard can see the panic in his eyes and curses inwardly. He leans in closer, rubbing frantically until Jared’s head falls back with a high, keening whine. ‘Hhhhh, I – Rich – oh.’

His hips lift off the couch.

‘Leaking,’ says Richard, palming Jared’s cock, other hand grabbing at Jared’s hip to still his writhing, ‘Fucking. Soaking into. Gonna get it all.’

‘Please,’ says Jared, grinding against Richard’s palm, ‘please, Richard, I - ’

‘Gonna,’ says Richard, squeezing hard, ‘gonna spread it all – gonna get it – gonna mess it all.’

The hand on Richard’s arm tightens. ‘Please,’ says Jared on a wail, ‘darling, please, let me, let me …’ His other hand reaches down, fumbling for Richard’s cock. ‘Please, please …’

Richard falls on Jared, grinding desperately. Jared’s hand is trapped between their cocks as they groan into each other’s mouths. His wriggling fingers make Richard buck and whine.

He sucks on Jared’s bottom lip, lets Jared lick his way into his mouth. Pulls away to tongue at Jared’s throat. Cries out as Jared’s fingers reach into his jeans and squeeze.

‘Yes,’ says Jared into his ear. ‘Yes, let me, let me, let me …’

Richard wriggles, feels lace and silk and Jared’s long elegant fingers against his boxers – checked, new ones, boring, boring, boring – and falls forward, mouthing at Jared’s collarbone. He says ‘Fuck me.’

Jared’s fingers thread through his hair. Gently, he feels his head being lifted. He meets Jared’s eyes and says ‘Fuck me. With the - ’ he gestures downwards, ‘I. I want.’

Jared’s eyes are very wide. He nods, swallowing. Then he sits up, pushing Richard gently away.

‘Why  - ‘

Jared slithers off the couch and pulls off his trousers. His eyes are on Richard’s. ‘Bed, sweetheart.’ He offers Richard his hand and Richard lets himself be pulled off the couch, stumbling after Jared into the bedroom and sprawling on the bed.

Jared’s hands move to Richard’s jeans, pulling them down with his boxers, past Richard’s ass, down his thighs. He rucks up Richard’s t-shirt, far enough that he can nuzzle and lick and suck at Richard’s nipples while Richard throws his head back and gasps. He urges Richard up gently so he can pull off Richard’s t-shirt entirely. He strokes off Richard’s jeans and boxers, leaving soft nibbling kisses to his toes, his calves, his inner thighs.

Richard sighs and uncurls and raises himself up on his elbows to watch the light play on the glossy black material clinging to Jared’s ass. He pulls at Jared’s elbow and Jared comes to him easily, covering him as he kisses his lips and cheeks and eyelids.

Richard stretches beneath him, spreading his legs and squirming so their crotches press together, roll, slip, slide.

‘Richard,’ says Jared, hand resting tentatively on Richard’s hip, ‘Richard, may I - ?’

 _Yes_ , Richard wants to tell him, _the answer’s always yes_. He nods instead, and Jared lifts his legs gently until they’re wrapped around his waist. And oh, oh that’s an excellent idea. Richard’s heels press into the buttery-smoothness of silk over Jared’s ass. He can urge Jared into a gentle downward rock. He can groan into Jared’s mouth. He can luxuriate in the alien, unbearable rightness of the silk cupping his balls and flowing over his cock, of the lace pressing and abrading delicately, deliciously. Hot and cool and smooth and sly and damp from Jared’s precome and Richard’s mouth, and Richard’s never felt them this way before, wants them everywhere, immediately, now.

‘Jared,’ he manages, ‘Jared, I want.’

Jared presses a kiss to his lips and sits up. He drops lube onto the bed next to Richard. No condom: they had blood workups done before they had sex because Jared is a Boy Scout who also has certain preferences and honestly Richard’s whole setup is basically factory-new.

Which means …

Richard swallows and reaches for Jared. Jared lets himself be pulled into long, long kisses before extracting himself and pouring out a heaping quantity of lube onto his fingers. Richard watches, licking his lips and throwing his legs wider apart.

Jared watches the movement, cheeks pinkening, and kneels between Richard’s legs.

‘So beautiful,’ he says, and runs a finger lightly around Richard’s rim. Richard lets out a sigh as it slips in. Closes his eyes and lets himself feel that nimble, clever finger move in him and explore. Lets Jared take his own time finding his prostate even though he knows Jared has a homing instinct for the thing now. Lets Jared return with two fingers. Lets himself feel the stretch – yes, oh yes – and lets himself squirm and rock and moan down. Lets Jared play. Lets himself enjoy the third finger and promises himself not to hurry Jared along.

But when the long slender triplet inside him makes him arch off the bed and wail, he raises his head and pants ‘Jared – Jared, I - ’.

‘Yes,’ says Jared, ‘Yes.’ He sits up and pushes down the briefs below his cock. He kisses Richard’s thigh, then lines himself up and pushes in.

Richard hooks his thumbs in the waistband of the briefs so he can tug him closer. He lets his head roll on the pillow so he can watch Jared. He loops his legs around Jared’s waist so he can feel him flex and move. His thumbs twitch against Jared’s thighs with every sinuous, rippling wave. If he lets his heels fall, they brush against the silk below Jared’s ass. If he slides his thumbs, he can feel the brush of the lace beneath the waistband. And through it all, Jared’s moving, gentle, inexorable, eyes unwavering on Richard’s face. Jared, all silk and lace and steel, Jared with his blue blue eyes and his giant thumb brushing Richard’s cheekbone, Jared in Richard, Jared over Richard, Jared under Richard’s thighs and thumbs. The lace presses against Richard’s perineum, sweet and slippery and harsh all at once. Every time Jared moves, it rasps against Richard’s flesh, tender and singing and wrong and exquisite. Richard sucks in a gasp, or is it Jared, Richard can’t tell.

‘Closer,’ he says, pulling Jared in. Deeper. Tighter. More. Jared’s eyes widen. He braces his forearms on either side of Richard’s head and pushes in.

‘More,’ says Richard, ‘More, Jared, I want - ’

Jared nods. Rocks into Richard. Gasps as Richard bucks and yanks at him. Leans his forehead against Richard’s before moving into a driving, grinding pace. Richard writhes beneath him, clutching so hard at the lace that he worries he’ll rip the briefs. He can feel the indent of the pattern against his palm, the tender skin beneath his hole, like a tattoo, like a mark, like his own souvenir.

He can feel the warmth of Jared spilling inside him, and he whines in pleasure. Then he feels one giant sweaty hand on his cock and the whine turns into a long high-pitched wail. Jared shifts inside him. If he pulls out, Richard thinks, his come will drip out of Richard, down onto those briefs, white trickle along the black silk.

He comes with a shout, fingers trembling in Jared’s hair as he licks him clean.

* * *

 

Afterwards, they’re lying curled up together. They’re cleaned up but still naked. Well, Richard’s naked. Jared’s left on the briefs at Richard’s request, if a hasty, lacklustre ‘Oh. Yeah, sure, you could … take off the … it’s. Yeah, it’s fine, it’s. Yeah. It’s not …’ can be interpreted as a request, which – I mean. Yeah. Richard’s gnawing absently at Jared’s shoulder, knuckles of one hand brushing down Jared’s chest indent, other hand cupping Jared over the briefs. There’s no immediate intent behind the gesture, but it’s a sort of … it’s a declaration of, like … Richard’s exercising the _option_ of intent.

‘That was wonderful,’ says Jared. He turns his head back to look at Richard, who raises his head from Jared’s shoulder with a smacking kiss. ‘Richard,’ he says, ‘I – thank you.’

Richard blinks. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Jared’s laser-focussed earnestness, especially trained on him from inches away. ‘I – you’re welcome?’

‘You indulged me, Richard,’ says Jared, ‘even after I – after my dereliction of duty, you – you were so kind, so - ’

‘Hey,’ says Richard, ‘hey,’ it helps to be this close sometimes, he can feel Jared’s skinny torso tensing as he prepares to launch into The Chronicles of the Unworthiness of Jared (ne Donald) Dunn, Esquire, and he can, can kinda get in front of it or divert it or something, ‘hey, I. Jared, I. I liked it.’

Okay, so that distracts Jared for like one hot second. Richard suspects that a flood of _thank you thank you thank you thank you for showing me for being this lanky fucked-up mirror for letting me see for letting me touch thank you for the lace thank you for the silk thank you for wanting this thank you for wanting to share thank you_ would be – well, Jared would put off his own meltdown, it’s only polite – but.

Jared turns pink. His eyes are sparkling. ‘Richard …’

‘You were,’ says Richard, ‘you were, uh. Really fucking hot. I.’ He swallows. Lets the hand on Jared’s chest skate down Jared’s flank. Rests in the dip at Jared’s waist before sliding down to curve over the hipbone spiking nearly through his thin skin. ‘You looked …’ His eyes find Jared’s. His thumb scrapes softly along the lace at the waistband. His eyes lift slowly. Hip. Waist. Shoulder. Throat. Cheek, flushed and hot, lashes beating against it.

One large hand covers Richard’s. Jared says ‘I’m too thin for them.’

Richard frowns. ‘No, Jared, I - ’

‘I am,’ says Jared. ‘They were nearly – nearly falling off, I worried they _would_ , I - ’ he looks at Richard. ‘On you, Richard, they’d – you’re so – so callipygous, you couldn’t possibly understand my pitiful dimensions, you - ’

‘Are you,’ says Richard, ‘are you saying you want me to,’ his voice sounds like a tin submerged in the fucking Pacific, ‘to wear them?’

Jared stills, Richard can feel it under his hands. His eyes snap to Richard’s. ‘Richard?’

_No of course he wasn’t why would he that’s only Richard’s Richard’s whole fucked-up deal he saw Jared didn’t he he saw he touched and if he’d kept his mouth shut he could have had this again the silk the satin the lace the indents the patterns he could carry on his balls and his ass and and and but now he has opened his mouth he’s reached he’s grabbed because that’s what he does that’s Richard’s whole entire thing and now he’ll never they’ll never it’ll never_

And then there are long fingers resting, trembling, on Richard’s hip, the bob of Jared’s Adam’s Apple in his throat and then a hushed, almost-fearful voice saying ‘Would you?’

Richard’s eyes are shut. That’s – that’s probably better. He nods, quickly, tightly, nods before he can take it back. ‘If, uh,’ he says, and makes himself open his eyes, ‘if. That’s what. If you wanted.’

Jared’s eyes are very round. ‘Richard,’ he says on a breath, ‘oh, Richard.’

And then his head’s bending forward and kissing everywhere on Richard’s face that he can reach. Richard lets his head fall back, kisses back as best he can. Feels himself grab at the waistband of the briefs and tug at them insistently.

Jared raises his head and looks at Richard. ‘Now?’

Richard can feel the blush rising everywhere. He swallows. Tries for a shrug. ‘If – if you – if you want.’

Another kiss then, firm and rich, on his mouth, and then Jared’s sitting up. He eases the briefs down his legs and then there they are, Jared holding them up like an offering.

‘Richard?’ Jared licks his lips. ‘Richard, may I put these on for you?’

Richard gulps. Nods. Rises on shaking legs. Waits.

One hand wraps around his left shin. Gently urges his foot up to step into the briefs. Then the right.

Richard holds his breath at the whisper of silk and the back of Jared’s knuckles against his calf, his thigh, dragging lightly up and around. Long exhale as Jared smooths the briefs over his ass. Gently. Carefully. Tucking into place.

Some of this he remembers. The sly cling, the insinuating stretch, the sense of being – deliciously – too much for the trembling, blushing material. The obscene, delicate whisper.

But now – now there’s the cool of drying – fuck – spit, and sweat, and come, of Richard’s fingers, of his tongue, of Jared’s cock. Now Richard’s carrying Jared’s fluttering, his trepidation, his patented Jared Oh, I Shouldn’t, he’s carrying his own gratitude and want.

‘Richard?’ Richard’s eyes drag to Jared’s, wide and dark. His breath is coming fast and shallow, and he’s staring at Richard like …

Like Richard’s something to flee from, to protect, to swallow whole. Like Jared’s moments from combusting, or melting, or hurling Richard to the ground. Like Richard’s something infinitely fragile, and infinitely powerful.

‘You – you like it?’ Richard doesn’t know what he’s going for – swagger? Plea? Fuck knows – but whatever he means to ask for, Jared’s soft, shuddering whine gives it to him.  

Richard reaches out a hand. Watches Jared’s own hand twitch by his side.

‘Please,’ they say, at the same time. Richard laughs, a short hysterical bark. He nods, says ‘yeah’ on a breath. Says ‘please’ again, just to – y’know – in case.

Jared raises a trembling hand. His eyes lower from Richard’s eyes, down, down to his hip. He lets the very tips of his fingers rest on top of the briefs, over his hipbone.

Richard holds his breath. Shuts his eyes as he feels Jared’s fingertips trace the pattern of the lace. Tentative at first, then firmer, bolder. Jared’s fingers skate down, slide between the lace and Richard’s thigh, and Richard takes his lip between his teeth. Jared’s finger slides up further, snagging at the silk, scratching at Richard’s pubic hair. His knuckle digs into the soft flesh and Richard whimpers.

And then Jared puts his mouth to the place where the briefs meet Richard’s thigh, and Richard jolts.

‘So soft,’ murmurs Jared, and Richard feels rather than hears him. Hot, damp breath flaring against the silk, tiny kitten licks against his thigh, flicking and tasting.

‘Richard?’ says Jared, ‘Richard, could I ask you to turn around?’

Richard nods. Turns on wobbly legs. Hears Jared’s shaking indrawn breath. Feels his hands cup his ass. Trembling, trepidatious, proprietorial.

‘Oh, Richard,’ he says, and Richard can hear the tears in his voice. ‘Richard, do you know how beautiful you are?’

He doesn’t wait for a response, pressing his face in instead.

‘Fuck,’ gasps Richard, arching back, ‘fuck, Jared, _fuck_.’

Mouth, he thinks, Jared’s full soft lips, wet and hungry. Teeth tugging down the waistband of the briefs, nipping gently at the base of Richard’s spine. Tongue swirling and snagging over silk and lace. Hot and greedy over Richard’s ass.

‘Thank you,’ says Jared, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you.’

Richard reaches back. Grabs Jared’s head and pulls him back. Shivers as Jared’s moan is muffled against Richard’s ass. Realises his toes are curling as Jared parts his thighs, mouths at his balls under the briefs, over and over until he’s, fuck, he’s dripping, his cock’s straining against the silk, he’s trembling as he stands, it’s only Jared’s thumbs on his hipbones keeping him upright, he –

‘Please,’ says Richard, ‘please, I – Jared, I need, please.’

‘Ssshhhhh,’ says Jared, hands passing gently up and down Richard’s sides, ‘darling, I have you, I have you.’

He helps Richard down, on his back while Jared sucks and mouths at Richard’s cock, draws at him until he fills his mouth with Richard’s pre-come, soaking the briefs again – again, thinks Richard, soaking with Jared and with Richard – eyelashes fluttering against the lace, rasping until Richard’s squirming and batting feebly at him.

‘Jared, Jared, _Jared_.’

Jared crawls up his body so Richard can kiss his taste from Jared’s mouth. He pulls away and moves Richard gently on to his belly.

 _Yes_ , thinks Richard, arching into the hands cupping his ass. Jared pulls down the briefs, gently, far enough that they hook underneath Richard’s ass, but still pull, just this side of uncomfortably, on Richard’s cock.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ breathes Richard, the sound cut short at the first touch of Jared’s tongue. Soft and slippery and nimble and wet and hungry, oh so _hungry_. Richard’s head bows as he wriggles underneath it. He can taste himself, he thinks, hot crawl of shame and delight, he can taste where he came in me, he’s licking himself out right before he fills me up again. He is, Richard can tell, the soft slurping sounds of Jared feasting, glutting himself, his nervous self-denying friend, gorging himself on Richard, licking and smacking and slurping ‘til his spit runs down his cheeks, like he can’t get enough of Richard.

And then Jared’s lifting his head and Richard whines at the loss until he hears the snap of the lube-bottle cap.

Richard shuffles his knees apart and licks his lips. Jared bends over him, presses a kiss beneath his ear and says ‘Richard, may I - ?’

‘Yeah,’ says Richard again, arching his back so he rubs against Jared. Jared kisses him again and nudges in. Richard wriggles a little, tries to get more. Jared places a gentle hand on his back. ‘Darling, be careful.’

‘I’m ready,’ says Richard – he is, he’s nice and open and wet for Jared, so open Jared could just – slip into him, slide in his own spit and come, wet and slick and easy, and the thought makes Richard blush and shiver and squirm beneath Jared, ‘God, Jared, I’m _ready_ , just - ’

Jared rocks into Richard, and yes, yes, it’s easy, so easy, so slippery and so loose and so wet, and Richard squirms back, lace and satin snagging painfully against his cock.

‘Oh,’ he gasps, and does it again, swaying forward to feel it. There’s that little flare of the elastic against the head of his cock, pushing desperately, obscenely against the waistband.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ he says, and rocks back against Jared. Jared moans. Slams into Richard, so hard he can feel his balls slap against him. Against the lace and silk bunched up beneath his ass.

‘Yeah,’ says Richard, ‘yeah, yeah, like that,’ and he grabs handfuls of the bedclothes in his fists. Squeezes around his friend. Urges him on. He can feel Jared’s hand on his lower back and the lace rubbing into his balls with every movement of Jared’s hips and there’s fretwork of lace beneath his veins, lit up with every precise, focussed grind against his prostate and his cockhead’s slipped free of the panties now, desperate and obscene and achingly hard, and he’s full, full, full of secrets which aren’t secrets anymore or rather are new, transformed, his and Jared’s, theirs to share and debauch, to utterly fucking destroy, and he has this, has Jared, lit up and easy and dripping, fucking oozing with everything he wants, that Jared will give him, it’s …

‘Richard? Richard, sweetheart, what’s wrong?’

Jared has pulled his face towards him. It’s swimming before his eyes because – oh – because he’s crying.

‘Good,’ he says – or tries to at any rate – ‘It’s – Jared, ‘s good, I - ’

And then one giant thumb is swiping delicately across his cheek and Jared sucks his thumb. His eyes are shining, that clear silvery film that means –

‘Oh, Richard. Richard, darling.’

Richard swats at Jared until he gets the idea and bends over Richard for a kiss – panting and wet and clumsy and lovely. Richard says into Jared’s mouth ‘Want.’

And Jared nods. Smooths a hand over Richard’s back until he can knot his fingers in the curls at the base of Richard’s neck. Holds Richard’s head down and lets go, until Richard’s shaking and limp and drenched, his throat rasped raw, his thighs scored with the elastic biting into them, balls chafed and tender with friction, marked with the pattern of the briefs.

* * *

 

‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,’ says Jared to Richard.

Richard’s fingers are drifting up and down Jared’s spine, and Jared’s hand is splayed over Richard’s ass. Naked – even Richard has to admit the briefs might have had kind of a big evening at this point.

Richard blushes. Wriggles so his nose is snuffling along the little indent in Jared’s chest. ‘Yeah?’ he says.

Jared nods. ‘You were so – I wanted to throw myself into the deeps, Richard, to bring you coral and pearl and the gold from the teeth of submariners, Richard, to, to festoon you in the softest and brightest and most precious things the world has to offer, to bring you scraps and shards and flotsam and jetsam that had drifted and wasted all its life, that never knew what it was to be beautiful until it was laid at your feet.’

‘Jared …’

‘Richard,’ says Jared, ‘would you … would you … darling, would you wear them again?’

Richard stills. Swallows. Squeezes his eyes shut against the tears – Goddammit, not again – and nods. Nods so hard he thinks he butts Jared’s chin.

‘ _Richard_ ,’ says Jared, hand tightening momentarily on Richard’s ass. ‘Darling, I will – oh, there’s an atelier out of Brussels, Richard, I’ve seen their work on muslin and lace, it’s so fine it could pass through a ring, I’ve, I’ve looked, but I can’t, I, my eyes, I feel like I could rip them in two just by staring at them, but I’ve – oh, would you let me buy some for you?’

Richard squirms. There’s a flicker starting low in his gut, his toes, his groin, his, his everywhere. To think of something so fragile, so fucking absurd, slithering around him, barely holding him in place, for Jared, Jared to rip apart with his gaze alone, he could do it, Jared could do it, Jared’s gaze is a thing of glaciers and cornflowers and lasers, he could, he could …

‘Blue,’ says Jared, ‘to match your eyes.’

‘And yours,’ says Richard, he could make Jared lie down for him, for Richard to play with the light settings of the room, to watch the shadows lengthen and flicker, turn amber and green and grey and black on his pale pale skin.

‘Oh,’ says Jared, ‘well, yes, but – but Richard, what does that matter?’

Richard frowns up at Jared, who’s frowning back at him. ‘Darling, they’d be for you.’

Richard blinks. ‘And you.’

‘… Richard, no, they’d – you would be wearing them. I – you indulged me, darling, and it was – it was indescribable, but I couldn’t - ’

‘… Jared, what - ’

‘Richard,’ says Jared, ‘Richard, I don’t – I couldn’t, I’ll show you, weeks of work go into each piece, sweetheart, they were former Cistercian nuns, I, the _profanation_ if I were to - ’

‘Jared.’ Richard’s scrambled up ‘til he’s straddling Jared, fingers digging into his shoulders. Does he not – does Jared not see, does he not get that the point, the entire fucking point, is Jared and Richard, Jared’s come and Richard’s spit, Jared’s balls and Richard’s dick, Jared’s hipbone piercing the lace that dapples Richard’s ass, Jared and Richard, Richard and Jared?

‘Richard, I don’t deserve - ’

‘Jared,’ says Richard, ‘I – do _I_ deserve it?’

The look he gets is incredulous. ‘Richard, how can you even ask me that?’

Richard nods. ‘Yeah. So. Do – do I deserve to. To see you. In them?’

And then he waits. For Jared to process every single Law of Robotics and Prime, Secondary and Tertiary Directive on the face of the planet before swallowing and saying ‘Richard, you – you deserve everything.’

Richard lets out a breath. ‘Yeah?’ he says, and thumbs Jared’s bottom lip.

He doesn’t agree, he thinks, but in the meantime he has Jared, and apparently he will soon have blue panties that Belgian nuns worked for weeks to make, and Richard’s not gonna argue.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to beefmaster and joycecarolnotes for beta-ing and being generally wonderful.
> 
> And my thanks to the talented and fabulous shfzw for taking on this winter exchange and being infinitely more together and patient and altogether excellent than I personally deserve.


End file.
